


They

by tawny_owl



Category: Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Fluff, I'm just stating the obvious really, If you know them you'll know what I mean, Longing, M/M, this can be read as Platonic or Romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 05:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawny_owl/pseuds/tawny_owl
Summary: They touch, they laugh, they stare, they kiss, they love.





	They

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write RPF/RPS but hey, I have eyes.

They touch. Always. A hand sneaking around the other’s neck, fingers trailing again collar and skin. They shiver agains each other, wrists on ribs, arms entangled, pulses fluttering, bodies so close they can feel each other’s warmth seeping through their clothes and the non-existent air between them. Sometimes they’ve got the flimsy excuse of being on stage and sharing a mic, silhouettes melting into one single entity as the show nears its end. Sometimes they sit too close, without even noticing. Their bodies always angled toward one another, like flowers seeking their own private sun. They sprawl on couches and chairs and beds, thighs warm and solid against each other and hair fluffy where it was ruffled affectionately earlier. Sometimes they get weird looks but. How could they stop?

They laugh. All the time. Eyes crinkling and mouths open wide, teeth flashing as they struggle to regain their composure after another cryptic joke only them understand. Most of the time it’s not even a joke, but a word, a glance, a single inflexion is enough to make them bite back sudden bursts of laughter. To be fair, when this happens they don’t even try to curb it, to the everlasting confusion of interviewers all across the globe (they try to feel bad about it but it’s exhilarating, to make each other laugh like no one else can). They laugh on stage too, making their whole crew break up and teasing each other so overtly it’s more like shameless flirting, really. Sometimes it’s softer, a chuckle around a yawn as they try to overcome jetlag, or a warm smile across the room that makes their heart stutter whenever their eyes meet. Some nights, their cheeks hurt from grinning so wide all day, but they both think it's more than worth it.

They stare. They’ve been told they do that too much, but any remaining sense of propriety flies out of the window when they’re together. They stare and they cannot help it. At parties, during interviews, in rehearsals, on stage (especially on stage). Their gazes lock by chance then not by chance at all and it’s like the world around them disappears in a blur of colours and noise until there’s only the two of them left; from across the stage or forehead against forehead, mouths open as they breathe the same air, they can read each other like an open book, brown irises into brown irises, noticing every subtle detail. The mischievous glint annoucing a particularly bad pun, the soft crinkles around the corners when they wordlessly remember a memory neither of them wants to share with the world, a faded scar that makes fingertips itching to smooth it. And recently, long eyelashes adorned with dark eyeshadow and a shimmering strip of glitter, black pupils too large and staring too long at each other in the dressing room mirror. They’ve always been staring, and they don’t want to stop.

They kiss. At first it’s for fun, even when it’s not. They laugh about it but they still do it whenever they get the chance, wilfully letting it slide into a more serious territory: a quick kiss on the top of the head, messy hair tickling a pointy nose ; an affectionate smooch on a blushy cheek as they go out together, warm and reckless and more than a little bit tipsy; a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, accidentally-on-purpose peck on the lips after a particularly emotionally charged rendition of their favourite song, leaving both of them flustered as the crowd cheers and whoops. There are lingering kisses and hurried ones, friendly smacks for laughs and soft lips against the corner of a smile; they don’t know where this will take them, but what they know for sure is that they’ll kiss again.

They love each other. And it’s the only thing that matters.


End file.
